"Now you speak of it, I've heard some talk in the village myself. They say old Ledbury was a miser as well as a gambler, and hoarded things like a magpie. It was a queer thing what he'd done with that money."
"It was uncommon queer," replied Bob, "and between you and me, Albert, I could tell you a thing or two about that."
"What do you mean?"
"Something I saw once," admitted Bob cautiously. "But so far it's not been worth my while to let on about it, and I ain't been able to take advantage of it myself. I sometimes think if I'd a pal now——"
"You and me was always thick, Bob," put in Albert eagerly.
"I dare say. But you go clacking like an old hen, when you've a drop of drink in you!"
"I wouldn't touch aught—leastways not more than my usual pint at supper."
"If I thought you could keep a still tongue, the two of us might manage a pretty big deal. It 'ud be a risky enough job, but I know you don't stop at a trifle."
"Not me!" chuckled Albert.
"Well, I don't mind tellin' you that I was peepin' in under the blinds at the Grange on the very night before old Mr. Ledbury died."